


A book of our lives

by Roosterbytes, salem_the_sail_boat



Category: let's be real for a moment- fandom
Genre: Anxiety, Depersonalization, Depression, Other, Suffocation mention, Suicidal Thoughts, tags will be added later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-04-29 02:13:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 7,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5112515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roosterbytes/pseuds/Roosterbytes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/salem_the_sail_boat/pseuds/salem_the_sail_boat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just basically a bunch of chapters with my companion, Rosterbytes telling about how we feel, expressing it in different ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No words

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, i must say that i am sorry to all the people who have been waiting for my updates, and honestly, i really can't get to them now that school has started. I have stories ready, but i don't have time to finialize them. Again, i am very sorry.
> 
> On the bright side, i have been talking to E (Roosterbytes) lately and we have decided that we want to collaborate! Now, this won't be exactly whithin the septiplier-verse, but instead, it will be based on what troubles or rants we have to share with you guys. And most of our stories won't be exactly happy, because we're not exactly happy all the time (to say the least). I won't say tooooo much, but we will be working on this for sometime, but i will finish up stories, and i can't wait to get into writing again!!
> 
> I, Candes will be posting first and E will be posting tomorrow i think, so stay tuned!
> 
> Candes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The words I choose do not do justice to these feelings. - E

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited to be working on this with Salem_the_sail_boat! We'll be writing a bunch of our own personal things, whether it be stories/poems/rants/thoughts etc. It's likely that they won't all be happy but nonetheless, I hope you guys enjoy learning more about us.
> 
> Take care everyone, have a wonderful day and happy Halloween! - E

The words I choose do not do justice to these feelings. Jumbled static does not fit the chaos that rolls around in my head like a tornado. Suffocation does not explain the pressure in my mind. Plague does not come close to describing the dark thoughts that come at night. But I must stick with these words, for they are all I have to use.

But it doesn't do these things justice. It cannot allow you to comprehend the severity of the echoing in my body or the overwhelming feeling of bad in my veins. There are no words to explain these things yet I find myself trying so hard to tell you. 

There are times where pictures, colors, emotions and movements are the only way I can convey the things I wish to explain to you. I could not place, in words you would understand, what that tea tasted like but it was magenta. It tasted like magenta and your response was a raised eyebrow and a face that screamed 'are you okay in the head?'

I could not explain how that song made me feel, so I simply moved my arm, mimicking an ocean wave and whispered 'it feels like this', you simply nodded your head and wrote off what I had said.

I cannot explain the scenarios that play out in my head. They begin with words but there are times they will shift into pictures, colors, feelings, movements and emotions. The scenario will continue playing as if there was no change but if I tried to describe it to you, you'd ask me how I got from point A to point D with nothing in between. 

I am desperate for you to understand. But there are no words to correctly explain any of this to you, so I will simply stick to using words that make sense to you and hope you comprehend these things that I experience.


	2. No words

Being alone and being different. This is my definition.  
Well mostly, i always feel alone. Its like being in a dark corner while everyone and everything else has bright and colorful lights, thriving upon eachother.   
I'm scared to come out and adjust to that. I see too many things happening and its overwhelming.  
I don't want to be a part of it, and i get a sense of helplessness.  
It feels like a chore just answering a question or even just saing "hi".  
I always feel different too. It's kind of like i know that i am different, but I choose not to acknowledge it because i don't want to talk, then again, i am alone.

..... but let's erase that thought, because i will always try to find light in the situation. I have time to myself, and you won't have to worry about living up to an expectation of a friend, or i could always just sit there and draw.

 

But in the end, I'll sit in a dark corner, seeing the sun's dawn and dusk. I will live another day.

 

\--end--


	3. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you find the strangest things and the memories play out like a film.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went through my room today. After vacuuming I dealt with 3 containers full of various stuff and found some things that made me ache. - E

I didn't know what I'd find. I never do. My room may look tidy, but it's an organized mess with various things jammed here and there. So when I found these things, things I remembered so vividly that left a soft smile on my face with things that made my chest ache, I was not sure how to feel. I'm still not sure how to feel.

There was so much junk that I didn't need. Various sea shells in several plastic sandwich bags. College papers I needed for when I was attempting to go. A coloring book, some puzzles I've never touched. Gaming magazines I never read. And beneath all that junk, were memories.

There were things that gave me a perspective. The photo of a soldier and his baby girl, with a thank you on back that I'd found on the sidewalk. Or the little flower a soldier had given me for a dollar donation. 

There were little trinkets, that my sister, brother and Dad had given me. A dragon my Dad drew for me 7 years ago. Tickets from concerts I'd gone to with my sister. Tickets from movies I'd seen. Paper bracelets from family trips. Birthday, Christmas and graduation cards. Bracelets from trips to the hospital I needed to remember.

And then there were the things that caused my heart to ache. The tag of the teddy bear my Grampy had given my Gram on their first date. My Nana's obituary in the form of a bookmark. A card my Gram had sent me years ago, a year before she died, along with a note explaining why it was late. And it was signed, with love always, Grammie and Grampy. From the same Grampy who hasn't spoken to us since the Fall of her death.

A card from my school counselor, praising me for being a good person that almost brought me to tears.

And the the cards from him. And the gifts from him. The photos we took when we were still together and lastly, the note that he'd written when we no longer were. The note that breaks my heart, years after it was written. The note he wrote after I'd yelled at him when I was feeling angry and suicidal. The note he'd written in the middle of the night, fumbling over his emotions with messy handwriting. 

Too many memories were held in that one container. And I cannot bring myself to get rid of any of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know.


	4. Try not to be a burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Try not to be a burden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something came up and I decided I wanted to talk about it. - E

I wrote Try not to be a burden, the very first chapter, because that was how I was feeling. I did not intend to make it a series. I did not intend for it to become this big thing. It was simply how I was feeling and I wanted to get it out there because I, for lack of better words, wanted help. 

After recent events, I took some time to re-adjust myself to life again. I took some time to pull myself out of the Robot state I had fallen into and try to get my bearings on how to be human again. I took some time off for myself and after coming back and checking on everyone again, I regret it immensely.

I went through my list and god, I just feel so selfish for taking that time off. There was someone I was talking to in my downtime, who never let on how bad they were feeling and I didn't find out until today when I checked on them. Thoughts are racing in my head, even as I am trying to drown it out with music but it's not working.  
_I should have been there._  
I should have helped them.  
I should have seen it coming.  
I shouldn't have taken time for myself.  
How could I have been so selfish.  
I should have been there.  
All those thoughts are playing in my head, repeating over and over. _I should have been there_ , being the loudest of them all. I feel guilty, despite knowing I am only human, because I was not there. I was not there for these people that I cherish so dearly and I should have been. And in a way, I blame myself for their sorrow.

It's funny, because I don't see myself as this big influence in their lives. In a way, I feel as if I am doing nothing to help them but I also feel that they rely on me. And in times like this one, I feel as if I had failed them. I was not there, despite promising I would be. And even though I am only human, it just feels like an excuse.  
_So what if you're human, you should have been there. You had no reason not to be. Oh, you needed some time for yourself? Boo hoo, go cry yourself a river, you dumb bitch. They needed you, they relied on you, and you failed them. Who are you to call yourself a human? A human, would have cared and helped them. A human would have been there like they promised they would be._

_What does it matter if you're a human. You're making excuses._

That is how I feel, that is what is running through my head. I know that I take on these things and hold myself to them strongly. I know I am not that big of an influence or have that big of an impact, but that doesn't matter to the irrational part of my head. I am responsible. I feel responsible for their sorrow. And I feel it is all my fault because I was not there.

And I'm scared to be writing this, because one of them, the one I'm sure who is reading this, may stop telling me things. They may stop turning to me or messaging me and that's not what I want at all. I want to be useful. I want to make them and everyone else I message happy.

And I want to stop being a burden.  
This is all rambly, and my head is foggy and I don't really register my fingers hitting the keys from behind my unfocused gaze but god.. I am trying. I am trying so hard not to be this burden, especially to them. Because they were the reason, that this Monday, I did not run into traffic like I had planned. They are the reason I didn't run away from home, barefoot in pajamas at night near a gang-infested town, down the middle of the street wanting to scream out the words _Kill me_. They are the reason I am still breathing right now, because I thought of them and could not find it in myself to go through with it, despite the thoughts. Despite the smile on my face when I thought of walking down the train tracks and getting hit by a train right before I fell into a peaceful sleep, they are the reason I have not gone through with these things.

And it would be so easy for me to without them. I take multiple medications, they are full. One is a sleeping pill, and I could very easily swallow every pill without a regret. But these people, these people who I message, who I love, are the reason I don't. And I love them to pieces. I want nothing but happiness for them, even if they were to turn their backs on me, I would still think of them with a smile on my lips and a thank you on my tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got so side-tracked and just.. /sigh. I hope I haven't fucked everything up again.. I think I did.. You're going to stop messaging me, because you'll be worried. I won't be able to help you. And I will feel like a failure, I won't feel useful and fuck.. I'm saying too much but I can't bring myself to delete any of it through this foggy gaze.. foggy head.. I need a drink.. Too bad I'm underage..
> 
> I'm going to go now, before I say more I will regret later. Before I fuck up more. Fuck. Just..
> 
> Fuck.


	5. Depersonalized

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Depersonalize, shut down, it's no longer you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have DDPD, which is Depersonalization Disorder. I decided earlier today, I wanted to write about it so my friends would be able to understand what is happening when I have these moments. -E

Depersonalize.

Shut down.

It's no longer you.

There's a situation playing out in front of you. And it's causing you pain. Your mind tries to protect you but there's nothing it can do. There's only one option left. You take a step back inside your mind, feeling reality slip away from you.

The situation is still playing out but you are no longer a part of it. You no longer process it and your brain has stopped storing the information away. The you inside your mind, sits down and watches the situation unfold as if it were television.

You have become detached. You no longer feel your body is your own, it is simply the Main Character's body. It moves on it's own accord and you very faintly feel the movements, barely register the breathing. There's talking and although you hear the words, you can't grasp what they mean.

The person your character is interacting with, you barely recognize. A small part informs you that it's your mother but it's ignored. This person does not interest you and you watch the situation end.

Your character does various things and every now and again you feel reality tug at you. Sometimes you become aware that this character, is you. But these moments do not last very long and you become unfocused once more.

And there are times, where nothing is wrong. Nothing is happening. But there's chaos in your head and you take a step back once more. Nothing matters anymore. You're numb to what's going on despite being able to respond to others, you are not storing any of the information. 

You will not remember any of it.

You will not remember any of these times, because they are not yours to remember. And even if they were, you do not care enough to keep them.

There are times where you are aware of reality. Strong emotions pull you towards it and you are there. You are present. Your body is yours once more and you can feel these things. You can feel your fingers hit the keyboard. You can feel your hamster on your shoulder. You can feel the seat digging into your hips. You can hear the music in your ears and recognize the beat. You are here.

You are connected to this reality and all of a sudden, you're aware of everything. Despite these moments not being often, you remember them. Not each one, but the ones that impact you the most. And they are the only things you can hold onto. They are the only things you bother keeping because they mean the most to you.

So you store them, in a box for a rainy day or whenever something reminds you of them. You will pull them out and look back at these memories that have shaped you. You will look back at them and miss the times you were so aware.

Because now, after all these years, you no longer get the option to step back. Sometimes you are dragged back, kicking and screaming, trying to focus on what's in front of you. And other times, you allow Depersonalization to pull you back, not making a sound because you know it's useless.

Depersonalize.

Shut down.

It's no longer you.

And it's a process that will repeat, over and over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This sort of got away from me. I actually Depersonalized on and off while writing this. I'm still a bit unfocused, which is how I normally am although this is more of a downward tug. I don't know if I explained this well enough but, oh well.


	6. Not your everyday sadness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's complicated...

Its been a few days since i actually realized what could happen to me.

Last week, my language arts teacher was talking about the death of Edgar Allan Poe and how there were epitaphs (words from other people describing how great/bad that person was) for him, and he told us to write our own epitaph. I had to take a moment to breathe, because that thought of me dying hit me so hard in the chest, i couldn't function.

I actually had thought, i could be dead right now, but here's my epitaph, of what i would think of myself:

She sits on a bed, no longer resting her head,  
On the comfy pillows or dreams, now giving her absolute best to everyone.  
Bruises and aches everywhere, proving that she tries  
She tried her best everyday, wondering  
Will she rest again,  
When will she return to those good aspects of life,  
When will she return to those good dreams.  
Though no one notices her, she thinks  
'I didnt try hard enough'  
She is left in the dark corner of loneliness and abandon  
So darkness easily overtakes her.

There she sits on a bed, and she finally rests her head.


	7. Through the darkness, there is a light.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And through the darkness, there is a light. - E

There upon the bed, is a girl who is sweet as can be.  
Her chocolate brown eyes, slightly wet with unshed tears, reflect the sadness she feels.  
But not many look past, the gentle smile on her face.

Although she tries her best, she feels it is not enough.  
And when the room is empty, her smile drops.  
There are tears dripping onto her hands, that are tangled in the covers.  
She does not have the voice, to call out for the help she truly deserves.

Often in those times, when everyone is away, she lays there awake, thinking.  
She thinks of the good times, remembering the happiness and love.  
She thinks of her dreams, her future that was once painted so clear.  
Before finally she thinks, no one knows she's even there.

But there are many, who wait for her when the day ends.  
And they sit there, listening, until the next day begins.  
They look past the smile on her face, they look through the unshed tears and into the sadness.  
And once they breach the sadness, they see the darkness.

The darkness that she's been fighting, day after day.  
The darkness she never once complained about, while that smile remained on her face.  
And through the darkness, they see a light.

They have found her soul.  
And it shines brightly, warmth and comfort rolling off it in waves.  
Love, affection and reassurance wash over all those in it's presence.

Through all the sadness,  
Through all the darkness,  
this warm soul stands strong. 

And although she does not understand how astounding she really is,  
I will tell her, again and again, until it gets through.  
Because a strong loving soul like hers, is the most important thing in the world.

So when she rests her head at night, I will fill her dreams with happiness.  
I will whisper words of love.  
And I will protect her for all I am worth,  
because she is one of the most precious things to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And maybe you will understand,  
> I am talking about you,  
> My most precious friend.


	8. Nails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My family tells me I eat all the band-aids. I wonder why. - E

I'm not sure if my hands are shaking from the sight,  
or if they're shaking from the task.

The whites of my nails snap away with a metal click,  
as relief washes over me.  
Just this once,  
I will not clip them until I cannot anymore.  
Just this once,  
I will trust these hands not to betray me.

These same hands, who've dug their nails into every sore.  
Who have held medical scissors to every bump,  
until it's bled itself dry.

Whose nails have raked across each inch,  
poking and prodding,  
digging and dragging,  
until I'm left with angry pink lines and bloody wounds.

I will trust myself to have them,  
despite those nights that I remember so clearly.  
Waking up with flesh under my nails,  
after trying to claw open my throat.  
Or fingers wrapped tight,  
struggling to breathe.

There may be bloody sores on my collarbones,  
speckled amongst the angry pink stretched from shoulder to shoulder.  
There may be a bleeding sore on my neck,  
that I had almost drained with those sharp scissors, just in arm's reach.  
But I put them down.  
I laid a bandaid on that weeping mess.

For the first time since those nights,  
I am trusting myself with these nails,  
these claws,  
and praying they do not tear me in my sleep.


	9. "No send" letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a letter that will never be sent.

Mom,

Do you remember how I used to send you letters as a kid? How I used to write them in my room and seal them up before going into the living room to give them to you. I'm not a kid anymore but.. I so desperately want to send this to you. 

But I can't.

Barbara said my letters are "very intense" and suggested I write a "no send" letter to get my feelings out. I told her I wasn't going to write it. I guess I lied.

It's funny that I decided to write this the day you were leaving. You're coming home in a few hours, probably to finish packing before you go on your road-trip with Jay to help him move in with his girlfriend in Illinois. I know you're going to be back.. at least, I hope you're going to be. I told you last night that it was going to be weird without you here. I told you I doubted I was going to sleep and that it was going to be strange. I guess I lied about that too. I mean, yes it's going to be strange but that's not how I felt.. not how I feel. 

In all honesty, I'm scared. I am fucking terrified. 

You would often respond with "I ran away" when we'd call for you. And even more recently, if I ask you what you want me to do around the house or if you want me to do anything, you respond with "Give me a shotgun". 

I remember talking with you about how you've considered suicide.

I remember coming into the living room when I was younger, to find you drunk after being out with Aunt Missy. I remember how you didn't know who Dad was, or Sarah, or me, or Ryan. I remember the fear I felt when I realized you didn't know who we were. I was eleven, I think. 

And I remember that Christmas Eve. The one where you packed your things and took the van. I remember panic and fear when Dad told me what you'd done. How you had left. And I remember how when you came back, you said "I came back because I realized I would be ruining someone else's Christmas". Not ours, theirs. You had planned to live with Diane.

The reason I so desperately want to send this to you is because I want you to know I love you. I want you to know I am deeply terrified about you never coming back whenever you leave the house. I want you to know how fucking terrified I am everytime you tell me "Give me a shotgun", that one day you'll find a different way and kill yourself.

I am so fucking scared to lose you.

I'm so glad this isn't paper. I'm so glad that I don't have to make an excuse for why there would be water droplets on the page.

Mom, I am so fucking scared. So very scared. I desperately want to give this to you. I desperately want to call you at work and tell you. I want so desperately to hug you and cry on your shoulder and sob these words. 

I don't ever want to lose you.

And everytime you step out of this house or close your bedroom door, I'm afraid I already have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe one day I will be able to send it. -E


	10. How many times?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How many times..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read chapter 8 of Sing me a lullaby by Undercore and cried. It made me think of how much I am alike Jack in that chapter.
> 
> Also, my night meds kicked in hard and I'm losing focus of the screen so.. I might fix this? Idfk. -E

I wonder how many times I've said those words. How many similar sentences I had created just to change up my responses so you wouldn't know.  
_I'm fine._  
I'm okay.  
I'm alright.  
I'm sleepy.  
I'm tired.  
I'm exhausted.  
I'm something.

Or how many lies I've told to cover the ache in my chest.  
_It's okay._  
It's alright.  
It's fine.  
No worries.  
No problem.  
Don't worry about it.

I wonder if there will ever be a time where I can openly scream and beg you for help. I wonder if their will be a time where I can reach out with tears streaming down my face and ask you not to leave.

I wonder if there will ever be a time I will not be afraid to be alone. Where I'm not afraid of myself and the voices in my head.

I wonder how many times I've let you leave. And how many of those began with me telling you those cover-ups and lies before ending with you walking away as I planned my own demise.

I wonder how many times I've planned it out. How many times they've made me smile and feel at ease for the first time in years. I wish I knew, but there's too many,


	11. Footsteps and Pills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I feel like waking up, I've had this dream before.  
> Everything is blue, his pills, his hands, his jeans. -E

They're lined up in a row. Orange bottles with white caps and white labels. The black ink stares back at you, taunting you. While the pills inside make your stomach churn. You gulp.

_I need these to function._  
_I'm not a pill-popper._  
_I'm not addicted._  
_I just need to function._

There's a sigh that escapes your lips. You're not looking forward to it. You pop open your organizer, staring down at the colorful pills that greet you. You tip it to the side and make a quick note.

_Six. Just like every morning._

You tilt your head back, throwing them into your mouth. You can't look at them anymore. Your water rests on the counter, but you don't really need it anymore. You're too good at swallowing them and the thought makes you choke. One pill sits on the back of your tongue. It's bitter taste making your nose scrunch. You grab the water and try to wash it down, along with it's taste. Although the pill slides down your throat, the taste remains. Another gulp and another. As the water drains, the taste remains heavy on your tongue. 

You feel their weight in your belly and you begin to hate yourself just a little more. They're somehow heavier than the small breakfast you ate that morning. Sometimes you wish you didn't eat at all, just so your belly could feel sick, just like how you feel.

Night rolls around, another time you dread. You're supposed to take them an hour before bed but you never do anymore. You ready yourself for bed, trying to do everything else and put off the inevitable. It doesn't last long. The organizer is open, this time with PM staring at you. It's time already, as another sigh flows from your lips. The colors greet you again, although most are an off-white that remind you of hospital rooms and the smell of anti-septic. Your water is on the counter again, you know you'll need it this time. That sleeping pill is the size of a nickel, but it'll go down easy with the water.

_It'd probably go down without it._

You really don't want to think about it. You tip them into your hand once more, just as you'd done that morning. You close your fingers around them, untwisting the cap of the water.

_Down the hatch._

You feel all seven slide across your tongue and feel their weight in your throat, heavy as they land next to the morning's pills that are only ghosts now. You wish they wouldn't go down so easy. You wish there was even just a little bit of difficulty.

_Pill-popper.  
Addict._

Agreement wisps out of your lips, before you cap the water and turn on your heel. You check the front door. It's locked. The light above the stove clicks as you shut it off. The darkness greets you, ghosting across your skin as you trudge towards your room. The light flickers across your face as the door creaks open. The weight is comforting as you close it behind you.

Glasses off, you shuck the blankets to the side before laying down. Your back settles against the mattress as you reach up and shut off the light. Your alarms are set and as you shut your eyes, you feel dread.

You get to repeat this all over again in the morning.

You pray the number of pills in your belly will be enough to stop your heart.

They never are.


	12. Ignorant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're ignorant to the things she says behind your back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to scream in your face. I want to stop being your replacement. I am not her husband, you are. So take off your fucking blindfold and be one. -E

I wish I could be like you and live in this little fantasy land where everything is fine. I wish I could be in your place instead of being her replacement for you.

I wish I could say it was funny how ignorant you are, but it's not. It's not funny at all. If anything, it's sad.

And a little frustrating.

I can tell you the things she says about you behind your back and your only response is denial and anger towards me.

She tells me not to ask you anything because she thinks it's pointless to ask you for anything. Because she thinks you're lazy and that you won't do jackshit. 

And every time I ask you to do something, I'm praying you'll listen and prove her wrong. But you never do.

No. You get mad at me. You argue with me. Because "I'm the child and you're the adult" and "You know more than me and shouldn't be taking advice/help from a kid".

You're ignorant to her anger. You're ignorant to her hurt. You're ignorant to her feelings in general.

And you're ignorant to the fact I'm trying to save your ass and your marriage.

I've been trying for years. I would even tell her "Yeah, Dad did that", even if I spent my time doing it instead. I would try to get her to understand various scenarios to explain your actions as venom dripped from her lips. I would try to inform you and help you even when you'd raise your voice and pull tears from my eyes while your words slammed into my chest, knocking the air out of me.

I have tried to help you. I've tried to change her view of you. I've tried to help paint over the bad reputation you've been given. I've covered for you and attempted to save your ass.

I'm the reason this marriage has stayed together so long. Because I gave her my ultimatum. And despite how unfair it was of me to make her choose between divorce and my life, I did it. Because I was trying to buy myself time to try and fix it.

But it's not mine to fix.

And when she scrounges up the money, you won't have a chance to fix it anymore.

But you're ignorant to that to, just like you're ignorant to the fact three rings are missing from her hand. Her wedding rings are missing. But everything is fine underneath your snug blindfold.


	13. My head is scattered

There's too much in my head. I can't get a clear thought out and trying to accomplish anything right now seems impossible. I wanted to write. I **needed** to write. I'm so behind on everything and yet I can't get my head in the right place to do it.

There's words in my head but they're everywhere and they aren't fully forming proper sentences. A lot of it is just be trying to keep a steady thought and typing as much sense as I can. My head feels full. It feels like it's going to burst.

My face is warm and I don't know why.

I can grasp words from various sentences in my head but I cannot complete the one I originally start half the time. Just trying to focus on this hurts my head. Or maybe I already had a headache. I am unsure.

There is stress in my body and it won't leave. I am anxious and tired. I am tense and I feel I want to slam my head against the corner of a wall, just to relieve the pressure that is building behind my forehead, behind my skull.

My eyes are unfocusing often and I am not entirely sure what I am saying half the time. My hands are moving but I am not processing any of it.

I need to write.

I need to catch up.

I need to empty my head.

I need to die.

I don't know where that last one came from.

I have no idea what's happened.

I am warm but cold.

I am tired.  
What is hgaopipnegnoinng. My head said "What is happening" and "What is going on" at the same time. I am tired.


	14. One person can only do so much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am all the sudden unfamiliar with myself

There is this overwhelming feeling,  
Where I am not myself.  
Who am I, why am I like this?

Think

Think

Think

Stop doing that, Nia. It's confusing.  
What am I doing wrong? I cause other people grief?

Sad

Sad

Sad.

My friend's mom gets cancer, and somehow, myself tells me it's my fault.

Shake

Shake

Shake.

Are you okay? My friend asks me

Myself gets tired of the happy, so I break down, I've never broken down in front of anybody before, even my family doesn't know I'm depressed,  
So I

Cry

Cry

Cry

I write heartfelt letters about how I feel truly inside, but my fingers cramp, crushing and ripping the papers, thinking

NO ONE CAN READ THIS

NO ONE CAN READ THIS

NO ONE CAN READ THIS

it's sad that only one of my three friends can actually help me with depression, and they don't even live in my state.  
It's only sad because I shouldn't be depressed, even my friends have more struggles than I do.  
So I relieve myself by,

Scratching

Scratching

Scratching my irritated skin.

I look myself in the mirror-wait- I can't even do that.

I finally break, telling my friends that something is wrong with me, that I try and cut myself

Crying some more

Sob helplessly

Crying for help

Silent tears

Then, there's this light at the end of the tunnel, 

There, my friends hug me and say

It's okay

I'm here for you

I'll make you laugh

And,

 

 

I actually feel welcome and loved.


	15. Disgusted with myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't even bring myself to even open my eyes, I won't even bother.

There's nothing else to do.  
Well, that's what I always think.  
I start to scroll down my ao3 page, and then cringe.

UNFINISHED WORK

UNFINISHED WORK

it screams at me, yet I can't bring myself to even click and check on my work

It is truly a shame.

I can't even WRITE what I am passionate about.

Time's up, buddy. You're over writer's block.

Yet, I can't bring myself to even touch a keybord of any sort.

Tragic.

No matter how late I stay up, no matter how much time is passing, the more time that I am away from writing, the more time I haven't spent writing.

__

"Oh my gosh! I love your work"  
"Can't wait till the next chapter!"

_Deeply sorry lovelies, I wish I had another chapter for you, but this is the only one I can write._

_Truly a shame._

_I cannot say that enough,_

_I cannot rip out enough hair over this,_

_I cannot write enough,_

_I cannot cry enough over this, no matter how frustrating it gets,_

_My writing is never enough, and my pent up rage will do nothing for me._

_Tomorrow is another day._

_Maybe I can put something to use._


	16. ...

Sometimes, I wish I knew everything.

It's hard to sit and watch the days come and go.  
To watch the sun rise and set.  
To pretend everything is alright, when they're screaming so loud.

It's not really even a noise.  
Just a rumble and shake through my bones.  
It reminds me they need help,  
but I am unable to do anything.

There's a distance between us,  
and although I can reach them by other means,  
it does not protect them from harsh words or angry strikes,  
It does not rub their back or hug them tight while they cry,  
it only sits as an old tome with faded words that they've heard many times before,  
for them to look back on and ignore.

I can say whatever I'd like,  
but that does not mean they will listen to me.  
That does not mean they will let me help.  
That does not mean they will try..  
it means my words will sit there and they'll probably reply  
"I'm fine"  
or "It's okay"  
or "It's nothing".

I feel so fucking helpless.  
You say I help you, you tell me that..  
but why does it feel like you're lying..  
why in times like these do my words go unnoticed or ignored?  
WHY IS IT WHEN YOU'RE IN DANGER, I DON'T EXIST?  
WHY IS IT THAT WHEN I'M TRYING TO HELP YOU,  
YOU IGNORE ME OR CHANGE THE SUBJECT?

I LOVE YOU DAMNIT!  
I WANT TO PROTECT YOU.  
IDUCKING CARE ABOUT YOU.  
WHY ARE YOU NOT LETTING ME HELP>  
WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS  
WHY  
WHY WHY

I LOVE YOU. YOU ARE MY FRIEND MY FAMILY.  
ICARE FOR YOU.  
WHAT AM I DOING WRONF  
WHAR ARE YOU THINKIG  
WHY CANT I HELP YOU  
WHY WONT YOU LISTEN TO ME  
I FEEL SO HEPLESS AND SMALL  
I JUST WANT YOU TO BE SAFE  
AND YOU WONT LISTEN TO ME  
OR PROTECT YOURSELF  
WHY

why won't you listen to me..  
why do you live so far away..  
why can't i know where you live  
i need to call the police for you..  
i need to go there and help you..

i don't know what to do.  
it's fucking christmas..  
i just wanted you to have a good christmas.  
why is that so hard  
what fucking god up there decided to fuck you over this year  
or every year  
every day

i just want you to be safe  
i love you  
you're my family..  
i just want you to be safe.  
i want to protect you  
why cant i do even that


	17. A somber Christmas indeed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> why won't my head work properly?

Numb, there's nothing to feel,

Nothing to love.

I don't think I can be or talk around my friends anymore, I either make it akward, or they just go silent.

So, I texted this,

"My bed right now *pic of a casket*"

He replies back  
"Ummm, okay"

That's right, I fucking did it, and I damn well need help but I have no way of saying it out front

Well, that's one way of losing a friend, I probably won't be talking to him for a while.

Because I can't fucking do this anymore.

I just have that sense that no one likes me because they don't have time to think for one fucking second that they could die

 

And I think that all the time.

I wish I could be like the others, I wish I could be happy for once

Just for one second please...

I've already made this piece of writing late and akward because it is no longer christmas,

So nia, put on your happy face, because you're good at it. No one will notice a thing if you don't act the least bit sad.

I know two of my friends actually reach out to help me, but I just feel like I'm ruining their lives, I don't and I shouldn't be in their lives.

I wish I could love them too, but my emotion meter is no longer there, no more emotion means no more drama, no more laughing, no more friends....

Stop

Stop

Stop

I can't stop thinking, no matter how loud I blast my music, no matter how loud I talk or laugh. No matter how long I sleep or rock back and fourth.

I CAN'T DROWN MYSELF OUT OF MY OWN HEAD

I CAN'T

I CAN'T

I CAN'T.

 

here I go again, I cry myself to sleep, sobbing helplessly when no one is there.

I hope I last long enough to at least graduate for high school, so at least my mom can be happy for me.

You know that feeling when people love you? Yeah, I don't know that feeling.

BECAUSE IF I HAD THE CHANCE, I'D RIP MY FUCKING HEART OUT OF MY FUCKING CHEST IF I COULD RIGHT NOW.

 

I JUST DON'T KNOW ANYMORE

SOMEONE HELP

PLEASE

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

but then again, no one is there...


	18. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wish you would stop haunting my dreams. -E

It's ridiculous.  
Every nightmare takes place in your house.  
You're always there, even if I don't want you to be.  
You're there somehow, in some form and you don't fucking leave.  
You have that same look on your face, almost every time.

And for the first time, in so very long, you weren't in the one I woke up to today.  
I don't know how to feel about that.

You didn't haunt me this time.  
Instead it was two other faces from my past, singing a song to me and my sister.  
Guilty all the same by Linkin Park flowed out of their lips as they took slow, menacing steps towards us.  
The two brothers having such angry expressions from the smiles they had mere minutes before.  
My sister looking at me with a mixture of fear and confusion as she hid under a blanket.

It’s funny, because you weren’t there and we weren’t in your house.  
It’s been so long since I escaped that house and now I don’t know if I’ll ever return..  
Is it sad to say I want to?  
Is it pathetic of me to say I’d rather you haunt me then those two brothers?  
Then anyone else from my past?

Probably.

You were in my nightmare yesterday.  
I was in Logan’s room, on some weird quest to check some animatronic parents up where Zack’s bed used to be.  
And then I went into your room.  
The same way it always had been.  
There was a fucking doll that kept moving. I remember how much you hated dolls.  
It’s name was Annabelle. Funny, because that’s the name of a horror movie.  
It started talking to me when I told it I knew it was moving.  
Annabelle told me they hated that name and wanted to be called Brian instead.  
Another name from my past. How wonderful.  
You came into the room, holding a tray of something and asked me if I had talked to the doll.  
If I knew it was real.  
You laughed, humorlessly, with a sad smile on your face.  
And then Brian started to convince me into something.  
He kept talking and telling me how much he liked me.  
And you just stood there and watched.  
You watched as it happened.  
As sharp pain took over my body and then you joined in.  
Then there was flowers.  
Large cartoonish flowers flashing colors like they were part of a rave.  
And when it was over.  
I felt scared.  
I felt insane.  
Because after what had happened, I was meekly reaching out to you.  
To you and Brian, who was still a fucking doll next to you.  
And Brian was telling you how it was fine.  
How I was fine.  
I was scared.  
But I somehow trusted you.  
It felt like Stockholm Syndrome.  
Despite what you both did.  
I was reaching out for you.

I remember this nightmare so fucking vividly.  
It’s scary.  
It’s been over 24 hours.. and I remember it so well.  
I remember a lot of the ones you’re in.

Funny how that works.  
I want to forget you.  
To move on from you.  
I want you to stop haunting my nightmares.  
I want you to leave me the fuck alone.

I don’t think about you anymore.  
So why the fuck are you still there?  
Why the fuck are you still here?

I remember what you said when we were younger.  
That you thought we shared dreams because we had similar ones on the same nights.  
If that’s true, I don’t want it to be.

I thought I had gotten closure.  
I was pretty fucking sure of it.  
We haven’t talked since that day and I haven’t thought about trying to.  
I don’t understand.  
And I’m so tired of waking up from them.  
So tired of seeing your face every time I fall asleep.  
I realize you were in my life for so long.  
But it’s been a long time.  
I’ve gotten over the fact you’re no longer here.  
I’m okay with it.

So why the fuck do you continue to haunt me?  
Why are you still in my head?  
Why are you haunting me?


	19. Then why do I regret it?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ihatemyselfsomuchrightnowyouhavenoidea. -E

You said it's fine.  
That what I said is valid and you understand..  
So why do I regret it?  
Why do I regret it so fucking much?  
There's a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes.  
God, I just want to cry.  
I hate myself so much right now.  
You'd think after writing two things this morning, everything would be out of my system..  
It's not.  
It's fucking not.  
And I hate myself.

I wish you'd hate me too.

_You deserve so much better than me._

_And then he says to me.. Kill me now, kill me now, kill, me, now. Again and again._


	20. I don't know what's happening anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I shouldn't be alone at night. - E

I really shouldn't be alone at night anymore.

What is happening to me?


	21. Whelp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess what? I'm not dead yet!
> 
>  
> 
> -candes

It's been a long time since I've been here

I don't even go to my own page anymore

I can't write, I can't think, I can't act human anymore

A lot has happened, and basically, no one talks to me at school anymore

I get pity when someone looks at me

My teachers are concerned about me

But I don't give a shit anymore.

I go on about my business everyday without sheading a tear  
Well, sometimes.

My head throbs every morning i wake up. There's no noise

Just my own presence annoys me

I hurt, but no one knows what I've been through  
What shit I've seen  
What I've experienced

And no one bothers to ask

But it should be that way.

Is it normal to be great at hiding emotions?  
Because I am the best at it

I feel like I should quit  
Stop existing  
Delete my life  
Something  
Put it on pause

Empty out my overflowing bucket of emotions, because that water has been running for quite a while.

If an exciting event happens, I can't even pretend to act exited.

Can I just walk away from all situations?

I mean, since I'm a loner, it's okay, right?

It's okay to think of yourself as worthless  
That you are nothing  
That I should rot in hell,

 

Right?

Someone, back me up on this

Oh wait.......

No one is there

If no one gives a shit, neither should I

And it should stay that way.

 

 

 

 

So I should die, and stay that way

Right?

 

Right?!?

 

RIGHT?!?!?!?!?!?

SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME THAT IT IS TOTALLY OKAY TO FEEL LIKE I SHOULD THINK OF KILLING MYSELF IN MULTIPLE WAYS IS NORMAL, RIGHT?

 

But, fuck it.

 

I'm going to bed

 

Because there is nothing else I can do for anyone, except to not be part of existence.

 

But then again, yesterday, I had a bottle of pills in front of me, thinking that day was the day I should die

But I couldn't do it,

Because my mom called me

 

No worries.

 

I'll try again tomorrow

 

When nobody is home

Then I'll call up my closest excuse of a friend

And die on the phone

That's a great idea.

 

.........

 

 

...........

 

 

.........

 

 

.........

 

 

 

 

Right?


	22. it's getting worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I won't continue to live anymore if no one understands my reasoning.
> 
>  
> 
> -Candes

"Hey, maybe you should see a counselor"  
I'm sorry, I don't know anything about this, maybe the counselor will understand"  
"Please speak to the counselor"

I won't specify who, but I made the greatest mistake of my life:

 

Talking to the counselor.

 

LIKE WHY THE FUCK WOULD I DO THAT????

 

I TOLD EVERYBODY, MY MOM WON'T UNDERSTAND, AND THEY DIDN'T BELIEVE ME EITHER.

 

but then nobody fucking believes me, because they don't care about my thoughts or feelings.

 

My mom still doesn't understand why I'm depressed, or any of that shit.

 

I TOLD YOU ALL, SHE WOULDN'T UNDERSTAND, BUT YOU ALL CONTINUE TO PRESSURE ME INTO THIS KIND OF SHIT THAT WON'T WORK.

like, am I just that bad?

 

Am I just not trustworthy, that you don't care what I think or say, that instead you push me away, to go seek help

 

 

THAT MAKES ME HATE MYSELF EVEN FUCKING MORE

 

 

I NEEDED YOUR SUPPORT, BUT I COULDN'T GET IT WHEN I NEEDED IT THE MOST.

 

 

 

I always try my best to be there for you, why can't you be there for me?

 

I don't get comfort, I don't get a nice family. I get treated unfairly, by the world.

I can't trust anyone anymore.  
I WON'T trust anyone anymore.

 

What did I ever do to deserve this kind of treatment?

 

I swear I'm nice, I try to be friendly.

But I guess the happy ending I envisioned, isn't that happy.

That happy? I mean, not happy at all.

I guess I get to go to hell. I think I'll like it there.

 

It was funny, because my mom brought up how she's struggling too, and that it is against God, should I choose to kill myself. So, I guess it was never about me.

 

Well, fuck.

I always fuck things up. No matter what people tell me.

I fuck everything up, so don't tell me different.

In fact, you won't get a chance to tell me

 

Because,

 

 

 

 

 

 

I'll be dead.


End file.
